The Fourth Heart
by mostlypsychotic
Summary: Holden's been gone for two years now. As the only Caulfield left, Phoebe feels her life starting to collapse around her. She just can't seem to figure out why.


Mom and Dad don't like to talk about him too much. Every now and again, when she thinks she's alone, I hear Mom sigh and say "Why?" like it's her fault that all this happened. Every time she asks herself that, I always wanna go in there and tell her that things will be okay, that Holden's gonna get the help he needs in there and that he'll be able to get himself together when he comes back out. But I don't _know _that. So I just lay in D.B.'s bed and wait to see if I'm going to fall asleep tonight.

They never let me go and see him. I write a note to him every day, and keep them in a pile so that Dad can deliver them when _they _go to visit him, but I haven't seen his face in two years. I hope he's not getting too skinny, and that they give him haircuts. I hope they're taking good care of him, 'cause I know he won't take care of himself in there.

I guess it shouldn't have surprised me when I asked to go and they said no. I cried and screamed and broke three plates, and they wouldn't let me go to the park for a week, but now that I _really _think about it, it makes sense. They still don't let me go and see Allie's grave, and that was even longer ago. I don't even know what Allie's grave _looks _like, or what it says. I hope whoever takes care of tombstones takes care of his. I hope it's clean and shiny every single day, just like Allie was. I hope they know that he has a story, just like everyone else in that cemetery. He was a big brother to me and a little brother to Holden and D.B., and he was Mom and Dad's third kid and everybody loved him and he should still be alive. That's _his _story, but I don't think that's on his tombstone.

I go walking in the park by myself a lot. It's nice to be alone every now and again, especially when it's cold out. I put on a big scarf and hat, and I go out and look at things until it gets dark or I get hungry. I never really feel the cold or the wind, even in November. Maybe something's wrong with me.

The ducks are still around sometimes during this part of the year. They're usually getting ready to fly away for the winter, but sometimes they're just sitting there, next to the path. I remember a few days before the guys dressed in white came for Holden, when he took me on a walk and started talking about the ducks. He kept talking about how he had figured out where they go during the winter, and how they get there. He didn't tell me what he was talking about, and I still can't understand it. But I think of him every time I see those ducks, now. It's hard some days. Some days I see those birds and I just feel like crying all of a sudden. It's weird.

One day, Dad brought me a letter back from Holden, talking about how he went through a lot of trouble just to get a pen and that he really misses me. That was the first time I cried since the day they told me I couldn't go and see him. I just sat there at the kitchen table, holding the letter and crying. It was also the first time in a long time that Dad patted me on the back. He hadn't hugged me in even longer, but he didn't that time. Back when we were all happy, he'd pick me up and swing me around before hugging me, and I'd laugh so hard that my chest would hurt. That doesn't happen anymore. I just get pats on the back, like that time. But it felt good to feel his big hand on my back, and it got me to stop crying.

His letter didn't make much sense. It was full of 'run-on sentences,' like the ones I learned about in English class. His handwriting was really awful, too, but he doesn't get to write much in there, Mom said, so it's okay. He said the doctors treat him really well, and that the food's good, and that he kinda likes the other crazy people, but he misses me pretty badly. 'The first thing I do when I'm out of here,' he wrote, 'I'm gonna take you to the zoo and then to dinner. Just you and me.'

I stayed up all night reading that letter over and over. I didn't feel like crying anymore, but I felt lonely.

Mom and Dad told me the next day that D.B.'s coming back for a little while, so I won't be able to sleep in his room anymore. I'm happier than I've been in a long time when they tell me that. It'll be good to not be the only kid still around, I think.

He comes in the middle of the night, before I know he's coming. I'm asleep in his bed, and he comes to sit next to me and rubs the top of my head until I wake up. I stop being sleepy all of a sudden, and I hug him until he says he can't breathe. He lets me sleep in his bed, and he goes off to sleep in Holden's.

He tells me in the morning that he's gonna go visit Holden in a few days. I beg him to take me with him, and he says he can't, that Mom and Dad don't want me to go. I tell him I'm old enough and that I can handle it and I say 'please' a lot until he gives in.

I walk down to the corner shop the day before we go to see him. I want to bring him some candy. I tell the cashier that I'm going to go visit my brother tomorrow, and one of the girls from school hears me. She comes out onto the street after me, and asks me all snotty if I'm going to see the crazy boy. I get really angry and hit her across the face. I'm not sure _why _I did it, it just felt like it would solve things at the time. I really was angry, though. She starts crying, and I run away, faster than I've ever run in my life, even though I'm in my nice coat. I don't stop until I'm back in D.B.'s room, and by then I can hardly breathe. I stay up all night again, reading Holden's letter.

We go to see him the next day. D.B doesn't tell Mom or Dad that he's taking me. The entire building smells like toothpaste and all the walls are white, and people talk really loudly in echoing hallways. Holden's personal doctor shares the room with him to make sure he doesn't do anything bad. He's waiting for us outside the door, and he smiles down at me and lets us go in to talk to him alone. He's an okay guy.

Holden doesn't look up right away. His room doesn't have any wall-decorations, just one window that he's staring out of. I make a weird choking noise, and all of a sudden I realize I'm crying. He turns around and finds us there, and his eyes go really big. D.B. lets go of my shoulders and I go running across the room, right into his arms. He breathes really deep, and I hear him talking above me.

"I got all your letters."

"I got yours, too. I read it all night yesterday," I mumbled. He pulls away, sort-of smiling down at me.

"Why'd you do that?"

"'Cause I was scared. I hit some girl at the store." Now he looks up at D.B., who shrugs, and then back down at me.

"Now, why'd you do _that_?"

"'Cause she called you crazy, and you're not," I tell him, stepping back and rooting through the pocket in my skirt. "I got you some candy before I hit her." I hold it up, and he rubs the top of my head with his knuckles.

"Thanks, Phoebe. But don't go hitting people anymore, got that?" I nod obediently, and I look past him to see what he's looking at. There's a garden a few floors down, and lots of people dressed in white walking around. D.B. and Holden stand on either side of me, their hands on my shoulders, and we're quiet for the longest time.

I finally start to feel happy again.


End file.
